Humdinger’s Army

By A. C. Williams

August 2, 1866
Pendleton, South Carolina, C.S.A.

Dearest Veronica,

I long for the day when this conflict will be ended, and I may once again enjoy your lovely company. But until that glorious day, I am training new recruits to join General Jackson’s airship armada as he strives against our misled brothers in the north.

This latest round of recruits leaves much to be desired. I do believe the army is scraping the bottom of the barrel with these soft, peculiar men. They laugh frequently, as if they find something funny about our predicament.

I’m not laughing, and by the time I’m finished with them, they won’t be either. They’ll be charging into battle like mad bulldogs.

But I’ll give credit where it’s due. We started with camouflage tactics, and half of them produced paint from somewhere and made murals of their faces so convincing I couldn’t tell them from the cypress trees. There may be hope for them yet.

Until the day of my return, I remain faithfully yours,
Sergeant Barnabas J. Humdinger

-H.A.-

August 15, 1866
Pendleton, South Carolina, C.S.A.

Dearest Veronica,

Today I saw a fine lady on the street, and her hair reminded me of yours, the day of our excursion to the Museum of Steam Power in Charleston. You had pink ribbons in your bonnet. The memory of your beauty brightens these gray days.

My new cadets continue to astound, and they don’t laugh as much. I do believe I broke them of that strangeness on day one, but now? Darling, I can’t explain the oddities of this peculiar group of recruits.

I set them up against the Copperhead, the obstacle course on the south side of the mountain. I trained them for it all week, ran them through every preparatory measure they could need, and they failed. All of them. Each one.

They have not an inkling of balance. Not one of them. Throw a feather at one, and he’ll topple right over.

All my work. All the training. All the time invested in them, and they couldn’t find the grit to stand up straight. My temper raged, I fear, and I must admit I lost control of my gentlemanly veneer.

I’d recently come into possession of a supply of tactical swimming gear, thanks to an acquaintance in the Navy who thought such things might be useful for amphibious training. As punishment for their failure, I had my recruits strap flippers on their feet and made them run the Copperhead again.

Beloved, the most extraordinary thing happened. The grunts came to life like graceful swans, ballerinas perhaps. Where before they tripped over their own feet, they progressed through each obstacle with grace and confidence. Truly astonishing.

I shall have to add flippers on the Copperhead in future training exercises.

Beloved Veronica, until I may behold you again, I remain faithfully yours,
Sergeant Barnabas J. Humdinger

-H.A.-

August 31, 1866
Pendleton, South Carolina, C.S.A.

Dearest Veronica,

I truly begin to wonder where the army found this motley crew of mine. Running the Copperhead in swimming flippers was one thing, but now? Beloved, I drilled them on loading into one of the new steam-powered tanks we acquired from Gatling’s workshop. The cockpits of these tanks hold barely five people, but all ten of these men crammed themselves inside.

In a matter of moments.

Had I not been timing it myself I would not believe it possible to fit so many grown men into one tiny compartment.

Have they no bones? Or maybe it’s magic. I do not know.

They also mastered knot tying without any difficulty at all. That was a surprise. Just not as surprising as the tank ordeal.

I am beginning to believe I misjudged them at the beginning of our time together. They are fine men. They’ve even begun referring to our little platoon as Humdinger’s Army. As touching as I find that, I cannot support their painting the initials HA on every surface they see. Repeatedly. HA HA HA HA HA—everywhere. They find it hilarious, and I fail to see the joke.

When it comes time to send them to the battlefield, I do believe I will miss them. But not as much as I miss you, my beloved Veronica.

I remain faithfully yours,
Sergeant Barnabas J. Humdinger

-H.A.-

September 5, 1866
Pendleton, South Carolina, C.S.A.

Dearest Veronica,

I bid farewell to my peculiar platoon a few days ago. I am told they are joining Jackson’s electrical troops as they march toward Virginia.

They left me a farewell gift, to my surprise, and while it was very kind of them indeed, I do not see the purpose in a flower that shoots a stream of water. But I will cherish it nonetheless.

This infernal conflict continues, as we continue to endure here at Pendleton. My latest recruits arrived yesterday, and—to put it frankly, my dear—they seem stranger than the others.

For one, they are all dressed alike—in black pants and black-and-white striped shirts with suspenders. A few even have red hats, the funny kind that the French wear. Very, very odd indeed.

They seem to be the strong, silent types.

Until I see you again, my love, I remain faithfully yours,
Sergeant Barnabas J. Humdinger

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

A.C. Williams is an author and entrepreneur who loves cats, country living, and all things Japanese. She’d rather be barefoot, and if she isn’t her socks will never match. A proud Hufflepuff, she takes her coffee with cream, her pizza with pineapple, and her stories with spaceships. Follow her travel adventures with Hermes the Frog on social media.

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